


Who You Are

by ibreathethroughwords



Series: Moments [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Fluff Character Recovering From Injury, Gen, Liberal Use of Canon Powers, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Pre-Slash, Surprise Adoption, Traumatic Brain Injury, space dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: Scars, they have reminded him, are stories left on your skin to tell others what has made you who you are.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Gilad Pellaeon, Ezra Bridger & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Gilad Pellaeon & Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Moments [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590589
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a direct sequel to _Here_. Just click on link above to go to the previous story in the series to read that. I’m feeling way too lazy to fight with the html to link.

Gilad comes across Thrawn on the observation deck after his shift ends. It’s quiet in the hours around — and during — shift change, and few would dare approach the two of them having a private conversation. At this hour they are the only two in this portion of the ship, besides Bridger, sitting much farther aft than the pair of them. He sits on a cushion, legs crossed in meditation, hands folded loosely in his lap. On the side of his head facing away from them is a fairly large scar that is still healing. Hair won’t grow over it and the young man doesn’t try to hide it. 

Gilad is relieved to not have to look at it, though he is not ashamed Ezra has it.

Scars, they have reminded him, are stories left on your skin to tell others what has made you who you are. If it can’t be healed by bacta, Thrawn had told him after he had woken up, then it is meant to remind you of something of importance.

Bridger had mouthed off about remembering to duck before Thrawn caught his eye with a serious look and the kid fell silent. 

“Always expect the unexpected. Wear a helmet. Check your corners when investigating an enemy holdout.” Thrawn had rolled his eyes. “And yes, Ezra. _Duck._ ”

Thrawn had walked away then, and Gilad suspected he’d missed Ezra’s jaw dropping over Thrawn using his first name. Gilad certainly hadn’t. He’d clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder (blessedly warm and real and _alive_ ) and told him to close his mouth. 

“You’ll catch mynocks like that.” 

“He used my first name!” Ezra hissed at him, either in excitement or horror. With this one they were oftentimes the same emotion. 

Gilad hid a grin with practiced ease. “He does know it.”

“Well, yeah, he’s used my full name so much I think everyone on the ship knows it.”

Arms were folded over his chest as he looked down at the bandaged young man in the sickbay bed. “Who’s fault is that?”

At least he had it in him to look sheepish. “Mine,” Ezra answered, even lifting a hand to rub over the back of his bandaged neck. “But that’s not the point.”

Perhaps it was time to take pity on him. Gilad sat down in the chair next to him. “You were unconscious for nearly a month. The medics wanted to pull the plug.”

“Oh.” 

“He fought for your life every day. Think about that for a while,” Gilad said quietly, and gently patted his shoulder as he stood. “I’ll come see you after my shift.”

The memory provokes a soft smile as he sits down next to Thrawn. His commander has been a fierce protector of the young man since he came out of his coma a tenday ago, rarely letting Ezra out of his or Gilad’s direct line of sight. Ezra had put up a fuss but Gilad suspects he’s secretly enjoying the attention. 

“How was work?” Thrawn murmurs to him. Between them, the backs of their hands brush together as Thrawn shifts his closer. It’s the highlight of his day. That touch, and the three of them finally together in the same room since morning meal.

“Delightfully uneventful,” Gilad responds, his tone bliss incarnate. What did he do today? The naval equivalent of ‘nothing much.’ He signed things. Gave some directions. It was pleasantly boring and he _enjoyed it_. Right now, with Ezra still healing, while they’ve agreed one of them should be with him at all times while he’s awake, boring is excellent. Both of them are living for boring.

Except that he can’t quite resist the excitement of brushing the back of his hand against Thrawn’s as though it’s an innocent touch. Purely an accident. Gilad lives for the minuscule gasps he gets from Thrawn these days, those half-caught breaths, the otherwise innocuous shudders and sighs that come from a single, simple point of contact.

Seduction is an art form with which he is especially familiar. He intends to make great use of it when the timing is right.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to rayma3 and MARVEL_DC_HEART_THROBS. I did this in like an hour because of your lovely, thoughtful comments. Much thanks for reading and taking the time to comment on the last fic. As you can see, sometimes it spawns something else into existence. Muchas gracias!


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